


Prove It

by notonguexwithbutt



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, High School, M/M, So yeah, and get each other off, and make out, but cals the mastermind behind everything, but they also cuddle, calum too, idk - Freeform, its fetus muke, karen has a small part, lukes a nervous noodle, michael is an asshole, only light smut, sorry ash isn't in this, they argue a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notonguexwithbutt/pseuds/notonguexwithbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A stretch of silence follows and Luke can feel his cheeks begin to heat up again. Because…Michael is telling him he can stay. And hang out. With him. Luke was leaving and Michael stopped him. His heart speeds up again and a smile starts tugging at his lips. </p><p>God, he really better not fuck this up."</p><p>Michael's day to himself gets interrupted when a very nervous Luke Hemmings shows up on his doorstep, acoustic guitar and bright blue eyes awaiting him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prove It

**Author's Note:**

> this story switches back and forth between michael and luke's pov and i really hope it's not confusing or distracting or anything :/ also the smut is pretty light so i plan to post another fic sometime soon that will make up for that ;D 
> 
> enjoy!!

Nothing really beats having the house to yourself for a day. Especially when you spend most of your time hidden away in your room playing video games. Now, Michael has the chance to venture out of his cave of empty chip bags and scattered CDs and not have to worry about social interaction. Not that he doesn’t love his parents; it’s just that sometimes he just doesn’t feel like talking.  
  
And today he doesn’t have to.  
  
The blond haired boy grins lazily as he pushes his long fringe away from his eyes and walks downstairs to hear nothing but silence. He rubs at the nearly week old stubble that has grown in on his previously smooth, pale face as he stumbles into the kitchen. He would shave but he thinks the scruff makes him look a bit manlier, plus he’s really lazy. So it’s kind of a win-win. As long as his teachers don’t decide to make a big deal about it and give him a demerit. He’s already gotten enough of those for wearing the wrong socks.  
  
His light eyes gaze into the fridge, scanning for some food. This is the one bad thing about being home alone. Michael’s mum wasn’t there to make him lunch. He yawns and stretches his arms wide, his shirt pulling up to reveal a slice of his pale, smooth tummy. He continues gazing into the fridge, waiting for something to appear, thoughtlessly shoving a hand down the front of his tight boxer-briefs as he looks. A frown takes over his face when he hears three quick knocks at the door.  
  
He sends the front door a glare from where he’s standing in the kitchen, stopping to listen and wonder who the hell it could be. He decides to ignore it, grabbing the jug of milk from the fridge just as the person knocks again. Michael grumbles and gets ready to be rude to whoever’s bothering him as he approaches the door, swinging it open with a scowl.  
  
The scrawny blonde kid standing on the other side does nothing to lift Michael’s mood. His scowl strengthens and he glares at the boy, one hand on the doorknob and the other clutching the jug of milk. Luke stands there with wide eyes, a guitar case slung over his shoulder and a notebook tucked under his arm. He takes in the sight of Michael in a loose singlet and boxers, his thick hair flat on one side and sticking up on the other, his dark stubble standing out against his pale skin and his red lips as plump as ever. Luke swallows and averts his gaze, staring down at Michael’s socked feet.  
  
“Uh, hey,” he murmurs, a small flush reaching his cheeks. Michael continues to stare at him harshly.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
At this, Luke looks up, eyes wide and innocent.  
  
“Uh, I uh, thought we were practicing,” he says, looking past Michael into the house in search of something. Michael’s eyebrows pull together and he takes a step forward, blocking Luke’s view inside and forcing him to look at him instead.  
  
“Practicing for what?” he asks.  
  
“Where’s Calum?” Luke asks instead of answering, suddenly becoming fidgety.  
  
“How the hell should I know?”  
  
“Oh god,” Luke says, stepping backward, away from Michael. He turns his head and looks desperately down the street where his mom just drove off. “I, um. Calum said to meet him here. So we could play.”  
  
“What are you talking about, dumbass?” Michael asks. “Play what?”  
  
“Music,” he says. “Calum wants us to all start playing together. He wants to start a band.”  
  
Now Michael’s eyebrows shoot up and he scoffs loudly.  
  
“A band? Do you seriously think I’d ever be in a band with you, Hemmings?”  
  
Luke’s mouth hangs open, trying to find words to say but coming up blank. He’s so humiliated. Why would Calum do this? Michael already hates him enough. Now he’s showing up on his doorstep unannounced. This is horrible.  
  
“N-no,” he says. “Calum just said…”  
  
“Well, I don’t know what the hell Calum’s talking about. He was probably just fucking with you. We never had any plans. I haven’t talked to him all day.”  
  
There’s a long pause filled with an uncomfortable amount of staring (glaring) on Michael’s part. Luke considers giving up and walking home, but it’s pretty hot out and he lives kind of far away.  
  
“I…shit, I—“  
  
“What?” Michael snaps.  
  
“My mom’s going to work,” he says. “I don’t have a ride now. I told her I was gonna be here all day.”  
  
Michael’s scowl turns into a frown and he stares at the blond boy for another moment before sighing.  
  
“Whatever,” he mumbles before turning away and walking back into the house, leaving the front door wide open. He doesn’t feel like dealing with this. Luke stands there for a long moment after Michael leaves, seriously debating whether it would be worse to walk all the way home or spend a few hours with Michael.  
  
When he steps into the unfamiliar house and closes the door behind him, a small feeling of despair clutches at his chest. He ignores it and leans his guitar against the wall. He walks further inside, finding his way into the kitchen where Michael’s pouring a bowl of cereal. Michael doesn’t look at him as he brushes past him back into the lounge area, where he drops down on the couch and turns on the tv. Luke swallows and watches him from afar, wondering what he should do.  
  
“Where’s your mum?” he asks, wondering if it’s just the two of them in the house.  
  
Michael shrugs a shoulder and grunts, “Out,” as he flips through the channels, stopping on an episode of Spongebob. He’s really annoyed that his day to himself has been disrupted by none other than Luke fucking Hemmings. What a loser. Michael will just pretend he’s not even here.  
  
Luke takes a deep breath and walks into the room, sitting down on the other side of the couch and fixing his eyes on the tv. They’re silent and all Luke can focus on is the sound of Michael crunching his cereal. He swallows again and tries to convince himself that this isn’t weird, sitting on the couch watching Spongebob with Michael Clifford.  
  
Only, it really is. He never thought this would be a thing they did together.  
  
Ever.  
  
After a while Michael gets up from the couch and turns on the game console next to the tv. He grabs a controller and then turns to Luke, who stiffens and stares with his wide blue eyes.  
  
Michael rolls his eyes with annoyance and asks, “Are you playing?”  
  
“Playing what?”  
  
“Mario Kart.”  
  
A layer of nervousness suddenly vanishes from Luke and he feels a lot better at the mention of something so familiar. He nods and smiles at Michael, who instead of returning it just grimaces and tosses a controller at Luke. They begin the game and end up playing for over an hour.  
  
“Fuck off, Luke!” Michael shouts as he sits up on his knees on the couch, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. “Enough with the goddamn blue shells! How do you do that every time?!”  
  
Luke is laughing and moving his gaze back and forth between the game and the excited boy sitting next to him. Michael is yelling at him but it feels different than usual because he’s not actually mad. It’s like he doesn’t actually hate him. Michael’s yelling at him the way he yells at Calum when they play video games or anything like that. Luke hopes this never ends.  
  
“Well, whatever,” Michael says when Luke wins for the millionth time. “I’d kick your ass at FIFA.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Luke asks, perking up even more at the mention of one of his other favorite games. “Wanna bet?”  
  
“Yeah, how about if I win I never have to look at your dumb face again,” Michael says, finally turning to Luke. It’s a typical Michael comment but it’s lacking its usual venom and Luke can’t say that he minds. He and Michael have been hanging out for like two hours and he’s actually feeling really comfortable with the other boy.  
  
“Okay, but if I win then you need to give the band a chance.”  
  
Michael stiffens and stares at Luke before letting out a loud laugh and saying, “You say that like it’s an actual thing - the band. You know that’s never gonna happen, right?”  
  
Luke shrugs a shoulder and says, “Yeah, not if you’re good at FIFA.”  
  
At this, a smirk pulls across the older boy’s smooth lips, making Luke’s stomach flip. Michael leans over on the couch, way into Luke’s personal space, smirking at him with an evil glint in his green eyes. Luke is stiff and nearly shaking with nerves at Michael’s closeness. He can smell the faint scent of cologne and teenage boy musk and he bites his lip.  
  
With his face only inches from Luke’s, Michael says, “I’m the _best_ at FIFA.”  
  
Luke’s heart is still pounding by the time Michael has the game set up and they’re both sitting up straight, entirely focused on the game. Luke needs to win. He realizes this. If he wins, Michael has no excuse but to give him a chance. That’s all he wants, just a chance to show the older boy that he’s not as much of a loser as he thinks. He clenches his jaw and stares at the screen, putting all his effort into winning.  
  
When the ball zooms right into the back of Luke’s goal for the twelfth time a while later, his heart falls. His shoulders fall, his face falls, he deflates. He can’t believe he fucking lost.  
  
“Told you I was the best,” Michael says smugly beside him. Luke tries to lessen his frown when he turns to the other boy, catching his shining green eyes and the evil smile on his dark red lips. Michael snorts and leans over to shove Luke’s shoulder. “Jeez, don’t look so depressed. I know you wanna be in a band with me and all but you’re just not good enough, sorry mate.”  
  
Luke gives him a weak glare and says, “Yeah, guess not,” as he stands from the couch and heads for the front door, shoulders slumped and head down.  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
He pauses and turns to look at the boy on the couch, who’s turned around to stare at him.  
  
“M’leaving,” he mumbles. “That was the deal.”  
  
Michael stares at him for a long moment before rolling his eyes and standing from the couch to approach Luke. He stops about two feet away and stands there watching him, his long arms crossed loosely over his chest.  
  
“You’re so dumb,” he says. “You don’t actually have to leave. I don’t think it would be possible for me to never see your face again. You’re always lurking around somewhere.”  
  
“So you don’t want me to leave?”  
  
“No, I—I didn’t mean,” Michael stammers, suddenly a lot less confident than before. “Of course I do. I just…you don’t have to.”  
  
A stretch of silence follows and Luke can feel his cheeks begin to heat up again. Because…Michael is telling him he can stay. And hang out. With him. Luke was leaving and Michael _stopped_ him. His heart speeds up again and a smile starts tugging at his lips.  
  
God, he really better not fuck this up.  
  
He wipes his palms on his jeans and shrugs casually, saying, “Okay.”  
  
The boys find themselves in Michael’s room a half hour later, a movie set up on his tiny tv and snacks in hand. Michael is sprawled out across his bed the long way, lying on his stomach with his head resting on his arms at the foot of the bed. Luke is sitting on the floor leaning back against the side of the bed. They’re watching The Dark Knight, something both the boys have seen before, and Luke can’t really focus on it.  
  
He’s so fascinated by everything in Michael’s room, from the Simpson’s poster on his wall to the pile of clothes in the corner to the crumpled papers scattered on his desk. He never thought he’d actually be hanging out in Michael’s room. He wants to observe everything, take note of every CD he owns, every little knick-knack in his desk drawers. But all he’s done so far is sit down on the carpet and pretend to watch the movie. His ass is throbbing at this point and he regrets choosing the floor. He keeps shuffling around, trying to reposition himself without being annoying or anything, but he’s just so uncomfortable.  
  
“Quit moving so damn much,” Michael snaps from above him. Luke stills immediately but realizes this is his chance and he can’t pass it up.  
  
“Sorry,” he says. “My butt hurts.”  
  
“That sounds like a personal problem.”  
  
Luke rolls his eyes and says, “Could I have a pillow or something?”  
  
“Just get on the bed,” Michael says as if it’s obvious and the idea doesn’t make Luke’s stomach flip. He nods though, lifting himself up and finding a spot behind Michael’s long body, leaning back against the wall and pulling his legs up to his chest. Michael doesn’t bother moving so Luke does his best to stay out of his way.    
  
Now that Luke is sitting behind Michael, he has a whole new set of distractions. For example, the way the back of Michael’s choppy hair sticks up in a bunch of different directions and also curls a little at the bottom by his neck, and Luke wonders how it would feel to run his fingers through it. Also the smooth skin of Michael’s bare arms, and the way he can see the outline of his sharp shoulder blades through his shirt, and the curve of his ass under the gym shorts he pulled on earlier, and his long legs that are stretched out toward his pillows. He’s also quite memorized by the faint rise and fall of the boy in front of him as he breathes.  
  
“Could you stop looking at me?”  
  
Luke jumps and his eyes widen in fear, shooting to Michael’s head but the boy is still facing away from him. How did he know he was staring?  
  
“Wh-what?”  
  
Michael lifts his head and turns to give Luke a look. Luke stares back, frozen.  
  
“I can feel your eyes burning a hole into me,” Michael says, but for some reason he doesn’t sound mad. “It’s weird.”  
  
“I—I’m not,” Luke says, knowing he sounds like he’s spewing bullshit, and he is. Michael rolls his eyes but Luke doesn’t miss the faint smirk on his lips. He pushes himself up with a moan (which doesn’t stick in Luke’s brain forever) and stretches before situating himself against the wall beside Luke.  
  
“Whatever you say, Hemmings.”  
  
Luke tries to control his breathing, Michael’s new closeness making him really nervous now. He’s sitting so close that he can feel body heat radiating off the older boy. He should have stayed on the floor. A shudder shakes through Luke’s body and he fists his hands tightly and stares determinedly at the tv.  
  
“Calum’s such a shit,” Michael says suddenly, his voice so close that it makes Luke’s skin spread with goosebumps. He turns to look at Michael, leaning away a little because of their proximity.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“He obviously did this on purpose,” he explains.  
  
“Why would he do that?”  
  
Luke struggles to hold eye contact with Michael but does his best. It’s just hard when you’re staring into the face of such a fucking attractive person who you’re supposed to hate. But goddamn if Michael’s face doesn’t send a swarm of butterflies to Luke’s stomach.  
  
“Because he thinks we’re magically gonna become friends or something,” he says. There’s a long pause and then he looks back to the tv before saying, “Like that’ll ever happen.”  
  
Luke deflates yet another time and tries to ignore the fact that Michael’s words actually make his heart hurt a little. There they are, sitting on Michael’s bed watching a movie together, and Michael still refuses to be his friend. He feels that horrible feeling in his nose and throat like he’s about to cry, but then suddenly Michael drops his head onto Luke’s thin shoulder, his soft, blond hair brushing against Luke’s cheek and neck. Luke stiffens, staring down at the boy.  
  
It’s such a simple action but Luke’s heart skips a beat when he realizes what’s happening. Michael is resting his head on Luke’s shoulder. Like, willingly. Luke stares for another moment before scooting down a little, letting Michael settle more comfortably against him. His stomach flips and he murmurs, “Yeah. Definitely not.”  
  
“‘Cuz I hate you, you know,” Michael says, his voice quieter than Luke’s ever heard it. Luke nods.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You hate me, too, right?”  
  
Luke pauses, wondering what Michael would say if he told him the truth. That he doesn’t hate him at all. The opposite, in fact. Quite the opposite.  
  
“Yeah, you’re the worst,” he says, earning a snort from Michael. He lifts his head up and shoves Luke’s shoulder now, making the blond boy have to catch his balance against the mattress.  
  
“Yeah, well, let me know when you get less bony shoulders,” he says with a feigned scowl. “You’re probably a horrible cuddler. Another reason why your friendship with Calum makes no sense.”  
  
“Hey,” Luke defends himself. “I’m super cuddly.”  
  
Michael snaps his gaze back to meet Luke’s eye, his expression changed completely at Luke’s words. He makes an effort to sound casual when he asks, “You cuddle with Calum?”  
  
Michael can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he waits for Luke’s response.  
  
The boy shrugs a little and says, “We have before.”  
  
Michael’s gaze hardens at this news and he stares at Luke for a moment before turning away with a deep frown. He moves away from Luke a bit so there’s a lot more space between them and Luke wishes he never said anything. Michael’s probably upset that his best friend would even touch someone so lame. He sighs.  
  
“Don’t blame Cal,” he says as he watches Michael’s jaw clench. “Like I said, m’just a really good cuddler.”  
  
Michael crosses his lanky arms and gives Luke a doubtful look, saying, “Yeah, right. Prove it.”  
  
Luke’s cheeks heat up again and he hopes Michael can’t tell.  
  
“Wh- how?” he asks, his heart rate increasing. Michael quirks an eyebrow instead of answering and continues watching Luke, who squirms under his gaze. He looks down to his lap and mumbles, “Shut up,” as he wills himself to stop blushing.    
  
“What, I’m not good enough to cuddle with?” the older boy asks, his green eyes still drinking in the sight of the awkward boy sitting beside him, cheeks flushed and eyes turned down. At Michael’s words, the blond looks up, his wide blue eyes shining with nerves.  
  
“What?” he asks, his voice tight. “No, I just— I didn’t think—“  
  
“Whatever,” Michael interrupts him, his normal scowl back on his face as he scoots to the side of the bed and gets up. Luke frowns. He knew he’d fuck this up. Michael leaves the room without a word and Luke sits there on his bed, watching the door as The Dark Knight continues unwatched in the background.  
  
Luke is admittedly annoyed by the older boy’s behavior. Not even today, but all the time. He’s so adamant at supposedly hating Luke, but there are these weird moments when it feels like he actually doesn’t hate him at all. Like it’s all just some show or a game that only Michael is playing. But even those moments don’t last long, and they usually end with Michael even angrier than before and Luke having no idea what he did wrong.  
  
What was he supposed to do in that situation? Throw his arms around Michael and cuddle him? It would be Luke’s pleasure, but normally Michael would threaten to hit him if he was even standing too close. Then he goes and tells him to prove how cuddly he is? Luke is so lost. Just when he decides that he’ll never be able to figure Michael out, the boy returns to the room and drops down heavily on the computer chair by his desk, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the tv without a word or a glance to Luke.  
  
Luke considers letting him pout, but ultimately decides he’s got nothing to lose, so he might as well try to figure out why he’s so mad.  
  
“Why’re you sitting over there?” he asks, his voice light and soft, trying not to hit any nerves.  
  
“Why are you even here?” Michael shoots back, eyes never leaving the tv and voice full of attitude.  
  
“What do you want from me, Michael?” Luke snaps, not wanting to put up with his shit anymore. “You hang out with me but insist we aren’t friends, you tell me not to touch you but then get upset when I won’t cuddle? You make no sense.”  
  
“I don’t wanna cuddle with you.”  
  
Luke musters all the confidence he possibly can before saying, “I think you do.”  
  
Michael finally looks at him. It’s a harsh glare, one that almost makes Luke cower away in fear, but at least he’s looking. Luke swallows and stares back. There’s a long pause and Luke considers getting up to leave since Michael is clearly too stubborn to have a conversation like this.  
  
“So what if I did?”  
  
Luke’s heart skips a beat and his palms begin sweating again but he keeps his expression neutral as he holds eye contact with the boy sitting stiffly in the seat across the room. His glare is weakening and becoming guarded and all Luke wants to do is hold him and feel his skin and hear his breathing patterns and run his fingers through his hair. He swallows nervously and finds his voice.  
  
“Come back on the bed and maybe you’ll see.”  
  
Something changes in Michael’s eyes and he stares at Luke for another moment before flicking his gaze back to the tv, just as the corners of his plump lips begin curving upward. He watches the tv for a few seconds without actually seeing it as he tries to hold back his smile and his leg bounces a few times on its own accord.  
  
“You’re so lame,” he says before huffing a breath and pushing himself up from the chair. He takes two steps over to the bed and drops down on it face first, landing back in the position he started in, his face turned away toward the tv. Luke’s heart is drumming against his chest as he stares down at the long boy lying in front of him, aware that he actually has full permission to touch him now. He’s never had that before and he’s always wanted it, but now that he has it he feels overwhelmed with nerves. He swallows again and wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs.  
  
Michael just lies there on his stomach, waiting for Luke to do something.  
  
Luke finally moves so that he’s lying down next to the older boy and then he shuffles closer, tossing an arm across Michael’s back and hooking his hand around the boy’s small waist. Michael is tense at first but then his body relaxes and he wiggles a little closer to Luke so that his arm is pressed up against Luke’s chest. Luke hides his smile against the older boy’s shoulder.  
  
No one says anything. Michael doesn’t mention the fact that he can feel Luke’s heart pounding against his arm and Luke doesn’t tell Michael how good he smells or how warm and soft he feels. No one speaks until Michael finally turns his head so that he’s facing Luke, his cheek smushed into the mattress and eyes unsure. Their faces are really close and Luke is memorized by the light shade of green he’s looking into.  
  
“This isn’t so great,” Michael says, claiming to be unimpressed even though his soft cheeks are slightly flushed.  
  
Luke pouts and says, “Yeah, well maybe if you weren’t lying there like a friggin’ uncooked noodle.”  
  
Michael snorts out a laugh at this and his eyes crinkle at the corners and Luke’s heart swirls.  
  
“How d’you want me to lie, Hemmings?” he asks in a stubborn way, but Luke realizes he’s actually asking and gets even more excited. Because he and Michael are cuddling. Because Michael wants to.  
  
“You could turn around at least,” Luke says, pulling his arm back. To Luke’s surprise, Michael actually listens to him and turns onto his back. Luke doesn’t waste much time before clinging onto the boy in his signature way, first grabbing Michael’s arm and pulling it around his own neck before pressing up against Michael’s side again. He snuggles his face against Michael’s chest as he wraps an arm around his middle and hooks one of his legs over Michael’s, pretty much going full koala on him.  
  
Again, Michael stiffens, and this time it doesn’t fade away as quickly as before. His hand is lying limply on Luke’s shoulder and he’s staring down at the top of the blond’s head with wide eyes. Luke doesn’t mind though; he tightens his grip around Michael and nuzzles his cheek against him some more, a small smile glued to his face.  
  
Because he and Michael are _cuddling_.  
  
Because Michael _wants to._  
  
This is probably one of the best days of Luke’s life, though he probably shouldn’t admit that. Even still, he wants to remember this moment forever and he prays nothing happens that will ruin whatever it is in the world that’s making Michael want Luke this close to him. Because as long as Michael wants it, Luke will happily stay clinging to him.  
  
Luke can feel that Michael’s chest is rising and falling a bit more quickly and he can hear his heartbeat and he’s just in awe of all these little things about the boy. Though he still feels tense, Michael finally moves his arm and settles it more comfortably around Luke, his palm coming to rest on the younger boy’s upper arm gently as he tightens his overall grip, holding Luke a little closer.  
  
Yep. Luke’s definitely marking this in his calendar. Best day ever.  
  
“…Luke?” Michael asks after a couple minutes. Though his voice is very soft, Luke can still feel its vibrations in Michael’s chest and it makes him smile some more. He hums in response, keeping his eyes closed and waiting for Michael to continue. It takes a long time, but eventually he says, “Sorry.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Y’know,” he says, a hint of sadness in his tone. “Being annoying and shitty and impossible to be around.”  
  
Luke opens his eyes and frowns. He should probably be happy that Michael’s apologizing, because he definitely deserves an apology, but instead it makes him upset. He realizes at once that he hates the idea of Michael disliking himself, and Michael’s tone made it seem like just that. It makes Luke want to shake him until he realizes how amazing he is. Either that or confess his love to him. That would probably be quite the ego boost.  
  
“It’s alright,” Luke says, his voice gentle. “You’re not that bad.”  
  
“I thought you said I’m the worst?”  
  
Luke pauses, considering taking the teasing route in this conversation, but then murmurs, “You’re not.”  
  
There’s a short silence and then Michael lets out a loud, agitated huff and begins sitting up, effectively pushing Luke off of him. Startled, Luke sits up with him and watches him with furrowed brows, awaiting an explanation.  
  
“Why don’t you hate me?” he asks, pinning Luke with a hard gaze. “You should hate my fucking guts.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“Because!” he exclaims, flailing his arms up once and looking a bit helpless. “I’m a piece of shit! I treat you like crap, Luke. For no reason. You should hate me. But instead here you are, cuddling with me just because I’m a whiny brat, acting like I don’t make your life hell. It’s so fucking annoying! I know you just put up with me for Calum, so really, you can stop.”  
  
Luke stares at him, his blue eyes wide and heart in his throat. He can feel words bubbling up and before he knows it, they’re tumbling through his lips.  
  
“Michael, just stop! Stop making everything more complicated than it needs to be! Who cares about any of that? Who cares if you’re mean to me? I don’t— it doesn’t matter. Why can’t you just fucking lie down and let me cuddle you and just shut the hell up for a minute?!”  
  
Now it’s Michael’s turn to stare at Luke, stunned and silent. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted in shock. He opens them to say something but then pauses and continues to stare. Luke stares back, slightly terrified but also glad to have finally said what’s on his mind.  
  
“You just yelled at me,” Michael says after far too much silence, seemingly trying to come to terms with the fact that just happened. Luke swallows and shrugs a little. Michael blinks. “You should probably go home.”  
  
Of all the things Luke expected the boy to say, for some reason that was definitely not one of them. His jaw drops and he gapes at Michael, eyebrows pulled tightly together.  
  
“Wh…what?” he demands, nothing short of appalled. They stare at each other some more and Luke notes how guarded Michael looks, how unsure. Again, he feels something bubbling up inside of him, but he’s not sure if it’s words this time.  
  
“I mean, it’s getting late anyways and it’s not like—“  
  
Michael’s sentence is cut off with a grunt when he’s shoved roughly in the chest, hard enough to fall backward on the bed. Luke launches himself on top of the boy, burying his arms underneath him and around his middle and bracketing his thighs with his own. When Michael recovers from the shock of being tackled by the normally skittish, reserved boy, he grips onto Luke’s shoulders and tries to pry him off.  
  
“What the hell, Luke?” he says, pushing at the blond stubbornly. Unfortunately, Luke’s being more stubborn, clinging to the older boy with determination. He can hear Michael’s heart pounding and he hopes it’s something other than anger that’s fueling it. “Get off, please.”  
  
“I don’t wanna,” Luke says, nuzzling his cheek against Michael’s chest a few times before settling against him. Michael huffs in exasperation above him but stops shoving at him, his hands coming to rest on Luke’s shoulders.  
  
“You’re annoying,” Michael says.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
They’re both silent after this as Michael lies there stiffly, letting the younger boy cling to him. He’s staring down at the top of Luke’s head when the younger boy looks up with a pout that makes Michael’s heart twist.  
  
“Cuddle me back,” Luke mumbles before dropping his head back down and tightening his arms around Michael’s waist. It takes a second for Michael to comply, hesitantly moving his hands lower onto Luke’s back and resting them there as he finally loosens up and settles back into the bed. Luke is making a horrible attempt at holding back the huge grin pulling at his lips and Michael is closing his eyes, trying to convince himself this isn’t a big deal.  
  
He can feel Luke’s hair tickling under his chin and his bony wrists digging into his back and it’s uncomfortable and awkward but for some reason Michael doesn’t really mind that much. He feels like he should mind, probably, and he’s definitely trying to make sure Luke thinks he minds, but he doesn’t, really.  
  
Actually, he doesn’t mind at all.  
  
In fact, he’s so content that he finds himself blearily blinking his eyes open hours later, curled up on his side with his forehead pressed against the back of Luke’s neck. He blinks a couple times, trying to figure out who the hell he’s spooning, and when he realizes who it is a second later when he breathes in his familiar scent he’s trying to remember why.  
  
Only, he’s interrupted when he hears what woke him up in the first place; his mum’s heels clacking against the floor downstairs and the jingle of her keys as she drops them on the counter.  
  
“Mikey, hon?” she calls from downstairs. Michael’s eyes pop open and he goes into panic mode, shoving the sleeping boy away from him roughly and jumping up in the bed. Luke shoots up as well and looks around wildly, startled by the urgent wake up.  
  
“Wh— Michael?” he says with confusion, his eyebrows pulled together cutely. His voice is laced with sleep and his hair is all flat on one side and Michael has to hold back a blush for some reason. He decides to glare at Luke to make up for it as he leaps off the bed, pinning him with an angry look.  
  
“What are you still _doing_ here?” he asks rudely in a hushed whisper, his tone verging on panicked. Luke’s jaw drops open and his eyebrows furrow further. “My mum’s home!”  
  
“Sorry, I—“  
  
“Shut up!” Michael interrupts. “I can’t believe you fell asleep! It’s nearly ten o’clock!”  
  
“Well, so did you!” Luke whisper-shouts back, crawling off the bed and running his fingers through his hair. He’s doing his best to ignore the fact that he can still feel Michael’s warmth enveloping his back and his arm hanging around his waist and instead attempts to glare back at the older boy. He didn’t mean to upset Michael or his mum. Michael’s just really nice to cuddle with and he couldn’t help falling asleep.  
  
“Well it’s my house, idiot!”  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?”  
  
“Michael?” his mom calls again, now at the bottom of the stairs. “You awake?”  
  
“Shit,” Michael huffs in frustration before moving his gaze to the door and yelling, “Yeah, mum! I’m just…”  
  
He trails off, at a loss for what he could say to stop her from coming in and seeing _Luke Hemmings_ here. The kid he hates. Hanging out in his room. How does he explain that? Not to mention the fact that his mom can see right through him and will definitely know that Michael doesn’t hate Luke quite as much as he claims. He can hear her ascending the stairs and it sounds a lot like doom approaching. Luke is staring at him with wide eyes, not knowing what to do in this situation at all.  
  
“Uh…” Michael continues aimlessly. “Doing homework, really really focused!”  
  
They wait in suspense as her footsteps get louder, Michael staring at the door and Luke staring at Michael, then they’re both staring at Karen when the door swings open. She sees Michael first and gives him a suspicious look before turning to look into his room. When she sees Luke standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, she raises an eyebrow and returns her gaze to her son, appearing very unimpressed.  
  
“You really need to work on your lying,” she says. “When are you ever really focused on homework?”  
  
Michael frowns at this and it only deepens when he hears Luke giggle quietly across the room.  
  
“Shut up,” he mumbles, shooting a glare at Luke because he really just can’t help himself.  
  
“Michael,” Karen scolds, giving her son a stern look. “Don’t be rude.” She turns her gaze to Luke and completely changes her expression, giving him a warm smile before asking, “You’re Liz Hemmings’ son, yeah?”  
  
Luke nods stiffly and attempts to give Karen a smile but he feels really nervous and kind of just wants to be home and away from all this unfamiliarity.  
  
“I’m Karen,” she says, giving him another smile before turning to Michael again and going back to her first expression, narrowing her eyes at him. “You should be nice to him. It might do you well to have a friend other than Calum.”  
  
Michael scowls at this and decides to glare at the carpet now.  
  
“Anyway,” she continues, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe as she looks at her son. “I don’t remember being asked if you could have a friend over tonight, hmm?”  
  
“We’re not friends,” Michael insists hastily. “He was just leaving, promise.”  
  
His mom actually rolls her eyes at this and Michael feels quite betrayed. Karen looks entirely unconvinced as she says, “Sure, Mikey. Luke, you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. Though I don’t know why you’d want to be around this grump any longer.“  
  
Luke laughs a little and says, “Uh, no, I should actually go home. My mum’s probably worried.”  
  
“Do you need a lift?”  
  
Luke nods sheepishly and says, “If you wouldn’t mind…”  
  
“Of course not,” she says. “Mike, come along for the ride. Let’s go.”  
  
“Why do I have to go?” Michael complains with a scowl. Luke has to actively control his expression because he doesn’t want anyone to see how upset he actually feels. He spent the entire day with Michael, part of it including a long, cuddly nap, and absolutely nothing has changed. Michael still hates him and treats him like shit.  
  
“Fine, stay here by yourself,” Karen says. “We’ll have more fun without you.”  
  
When Karen tells Luke to meet her downstairs and leaves the boys by themselves, a tense silence follows. Michael glares at Luke from across the room and Luke stands there fiddling with his fingers.  
  
“You’re so annoying,” Michael mumbles before dropping down in his computer chair and turning his back to Luke, pretending to be distracted by some notebooks on his desk.  
  
“ _You’re_ annoying,” Luke shoots back. Michael spins around to glare some more.  
  
“Then leave!”  
  
“I am, you arsehole!”  
  
“ _Good_!”  
  
Luke scoffs loudly before sliding out of the room and slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. He freezes when he hears its loud echo throughout the house and immediately regrets it. He was just so angry and frustrated with Michael; he didn’t even think twice. He hopes Karen isn’t mad. It would be nice to have at least one Clifford on his side.  
  
—  
  
The following Monday at school, a seemingly permanent scowl is etched onto Michael’s face. His eyebrows are furrowed and lips are turned down and he glares at anyone who looks like they might approach him. Unfortunately for Calum, the scowl actually strengthens when he walks up to the older boy at this locker.  
  
“Hey man, what’s up?” Calum greets him, trying to ignore the evil glare he’s currently receiving. Michael just stares some more for a few seconds before turning back to his locker.  
  
“You’re an arsehole,” he says into the metal compartment as he pulls at his textbooks.  
  
“Uh, me?” Calum plays dumb. “Why?”  
  
Michael slams his locker shut and turns to face the tan boy again with his eyes narrowed before growling, “You know why.”  
  
“I’m not—“  
  
“Well, congratulations because now the band is absolutely never happening!” Michael shouts, flailing his arms as he turns to walk down the hallway. Calum deflates and follows Michael like a puppy, pleading eyes to match.  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“Because I hate him even more now!”  
  
“God, piss off!”  
  
The two boys stop walking and spin around to see a lanky blond with a horrible(y cute) fringe standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and possibly an even bigger scowl than Michael’s. Both their faces change to sheer surprise at Luke’s demeanor. He’s glaring at Michael and looks like he wants to hit him pretty much. Michael looks back with his eyebrows raised.  
  
“Sorry?” he asks smugly, as if daring Luke to yell at him again.  
  
“You’re such an idiot!” Luke continues, throwing his arms up. “I’m so sick of this shit all the time, Michael!”  
  
Michael feels a flush spread up his neck and he glances around nervously to see a few onlookers watching the altercation hungrily. He looks at Calum who meets his eye and then holds his hands up innocently, taking a step back and shaking his head. Michael wants to punch him. He turns back to Luke at a loss for words.  
  
“Seriously, I’m done,” Luke continues. “Don’t even talk to me anymore, alright?”  
  
This reignites Michael’s anger and his scowl returns full force, glaring at Luke heatedly before saying, “You’re telling _me_ that?”  
  
He sends a quick glare to everyone still watching them in the hallway before stomping forward and grabbing Luke’s white button down, pulling him down the hallway without another word or glance back. Luke pries at his fingers and tugs at his shirt, yelling at Michael to let him go, but Michael doesn’t budge. He drags him along until he reaches the bathroom and then shoves Luke inside, pushing him up against the wall and glaring down at him. Luke stares back up at him with wide, terrified blue eyes and Michael revels in it.  
  
“ _You’re_ the one showing up at my house and begging to be in a band!” Michael hisses at Luke, their faces only inches apart. Luke’s hand is still clasped around Michael’s which is buried in Luke’s shirt. Luke gathers his composure, putting on a tough face again even though he might shit his pants at any moment.  
  
“Well, you’re the one who only likes me when no one else is around!” Luke shoots back and watches Michael falter at his words.  
  
“Bullshit!” Michael replies, shoving into Luke’s chest further, green eyes flashing. “I hate you all the time and you know it.”  
  
“Really?” Luke asks. His head is kind of spinning at their closeness and it’s really difficult to stop himself from looking at Michael’s lips when he says, “Prove it.”  
  
At this, Michael releases Luke’s shirt and then moves his hands to the younger boy’s hips, grabbing them and shoving his body back against the bathroom wall, crowding against him. He’s a lot closer now and Luke is almost lightheaded from being so overwhelmed by the other boy.  
  
“You want me to prove it?” Michael asks lowly, head bowed so that his lips are hovering mere inches away from Luke’s. His body is pressed against Luke’s in a way that doesn’t seem to be threatening and his fingers are digging into Luke’s sharp hipbones but he can’t say that he minds.  
  
Luke’s heart is drumming rapidly against his chest and he musters all the courage he has when he reaches up and sinks his fingers into the shoulders of Michael’s shirt, tugging him forward and saying, “Yes.”  
  
There’s a heavy pause and then Michael swoops in and presses his beautifully plump lips against Luke’s, pressing all his weight against him and grinding his crotch slightly. A jolt of lightening shoots through Luke’s body and in seconds he’s kissing back eagerly, his fingers tugging at the fabric of Michael’s uniform shirt, trying to pull him closer. A low moan sounds from the back of Michael’s throat and then he lets go of Luke’s hips so that he can grab his tie and begin pulling him away from the wall. Luke follows without question, letting Michael tug him by his tie to a stall, their lips never separating until he’s slammed up against the back of the stall door. Michael’s lower half is back against him in no time and now he’s pulling at the knot in Luke’s tie, trying to loosen it.  
  
Luke whimpers and jerks his crotch forward against Michael, realizing the tie thing really turned him on. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was Michael tugging his tie. Either way, he could feel his slacks growing tighter.  
  
“I fucking hate your guts,” Michael says in between his heavy breathing, no venom in his words as he works Luke’s tie and then the top buttons of his shirt.  
  
“Hate you, too,” Luke says quickly before grabbing Michael’s tie and pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips slide together hotly and then Michael’s tongue is shoving into Luke’s mouth and Luke can’t fucking believe this is happening. He moans loudly and Michael pulls away with a smug smirk as he clamps his hand over Luke’s mouth.  
  
“Jeez, you’re loud, Hemmings,” he comments before moving back in and kissing hungrily along Luke’s neck as his fingers continue down his chest, undoing his shirt buttons. Luke doesn’t even know where to put his hands anymore because he literally wants to put them everywhere, but he settles for dragging his fingers through Michael’s thick hair, something he’s wanted to do for basically the entire time he’s known the boy. When Michael bites his neck, his moan is muffled behind Michael’s hand.  
  
Michael pulls his hand away and immediately places it at the front of Luke’s pants. He can feel Luke’s semi and it makes his own dick twitch. He pulls away from Luke’s neck and meets the younger boy’s eyes.  
  
“You’re hard,” he says as he starts rubbing him through his pants.  
  
Luke lets out a strangled sound of frustration and says, “Yeah, thanks, I know.”  
  
“Shut up,” Michael replies shortly before leaning in to catch the boy’s lips again. They kiss fiercely, all their anger and frustration with each other being poured into it as Michael palms Luke’s growing cock.  
  
“Mm, Michael, more,” Luke whines, rutting up against Michael’s palm as his hands hook around the back of Michael’s neck. Michael obeys, pulling at Luke’s belt and then undoing his pants and shoving his hand inside. He can feel the thick outline of Luke’s cock through his boxers and he moans as he strokes it.  
  
Luke tugs Michael’s hair for another kiss and Michael is all for it, sliding his tongue against Luke’s and sucking bruises into his lips. He begins grinding his crotch against Luke’s thigh as he continues stroking him under his pants. Luke’s making all these gasping sounds and arching up into Michael’s touch. He presses his thigh firmly against Michael’s hard cock, wanting to make him feel as good as he feels.  
  
“That feel good, Luke?” Michael asks, voice low and husky, unlike anything Luke’s ever heard. He feels his leg muscles spasm at just the sound of it. He drops the back of his head against the metal door with a thud and nods, giving Michael a desperate look. “You gonna cum?”  
  
Luke chomps down on his lip and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold off but feeling his climax approaching. He nods some more and lets out some loud, panting breaths.  
  
“Yeah, m’gonna,” he says, watching Michael with hooded eyes. He only gets to look for a few seconds, catching the boy’s bright red, kiss-swollen lips and shiny eyes, the short hairs at the nape of his neck curling with sweat in the stuffy bathroom before Michael drops his forehead on the metal door beside Luke’s head and breathes heavily into Luke’s neck. Luke whimpers and presses himself against Michael, breathing in the boy’s musky scent and letting his vision cloud over as his stomach tightens.  
  
His hot cum shoots all over Michael’s hand and the inside of his boxers, but he’s too blissed out to care. Michael, on the other hand, pulls his hand out immediately and grimaces at the sticky mess before smearing his palm across the metal wall of the bathroom stall. Luke frowns at this but he’s quickly distracted by Michael tugging at the button of his own pants and pushing them halfway down his thighs, wasting no time shoving his sticky hand down into his boxers and wrapping around his cock. He moans with relief as he begins pumping himself, his eyes fluttering closed and lips falling open, eyebrows pulling together in concentration.  
  
Luke can’t resist leaning in and catching Michael’s bottom lip between his own, sucking at it and then kissing the boy roughly as he continues jerking himself off. In less than a minute, Michael’s tucking his face into the crook of Luke’s neck and stifling a groan as he cums in his pants. He takes a minute to catch his breath before pulling off a wad of toilet paper to wipe his hand off and then rubbing his arm along his sweaty forehead, pushing away his stringy hair and meeting Luke’s eye.  
  
Luke let’s out a breathy laugh and grins at Michael weakly, still a bit overwhelmed by the last, say, five minutes of his life. He feels a lot better when he sees Michael grin back, a familiar glint in his eye as he takes a step forward.  
  
“Alright, fine,” Michael says, sighing before giving Luke a sheepish smirk and blinking at him cutely. “Let’s make a goddamn band.”  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it :-)  
> expect more muke from me soon beebs
> 
> until then, bother me here:  
> notonguexwithbutt.tumblr.com


End file.
